Page 95 of Seal My Fate

The line is inching forwards at the coffee shop when my cellphone buzzes again. It’s Kelsey, my roommate, who must have finally made it back from her late-night hookup.

“I’m freaking out,” I tell her.

“They’re going to love you, Juliet. Obviously.”

“If I don’t say anything stupid out of sheer exhaustion,” I sigh. “I hardly slept last night.”

“Oooh, that’s right. You had a date! How were things with whats-his-name?” Kelsey perks right up. But I just give a hollow laugh.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That bad?”

“Worse.” I wince at the memory. “He still lives with his parents.”

“Well, that’s not so ba—"

“—And he doesn’t seem to want toleave.” I continue. “All he did was talk about the gaming magazine he writes for. There’s only so muchCall of Duty-talk I can take. And, worst of all…. He’s a bad kisser.”

“How bad?”

“Bad.” The line starts moving again so I turn, knocking into the person behind me. I turn to apologize.

And all my senses go haywire.

Because standing there, just inches away, is a wicked fantasy in a custom suit. Over six-feet-tall, with strong, angular features and sensual lips. He’s got slate blue eyes, and the kind of hair you want to run your fingers through, tousled and dark.

Or maybe that’s just me.

I blush, I can’t help it. “Sorry,” I murmur quickly, but the guy hasn’t even noticed I bumped him: He’s scrolling through his phone, with Airpods stuffed in his perfect ears.

He’s totally oblivious to my existence.

Story of my life.

“Juliet?” Kelsey’s voice breaks through my lustful haze. “You were telling me about your bad make out. Maybe it wasn’t a dealbreaker?” she asks, ever the optimist. “You could train him, if he’s hot enough. And rich enough. Is he?”

I have to laugh. This is why Kelsey has a date every Saturday night, and I… Don’t. “You can’t teach a guy to kiss, not so you feel it right to your toes.” I tell her. “You know when a guy reaches for you and time just stops? And everything disappears, and it’s like you and him are the only two people on earth?” I sigh wistfully. “You can telleverythingby the way a guy kisses.Especiallyhow he is in bed.”

And let’s just say, if last night was anything to go by, I would be in for three minutes of sloppy, beer-flavored action if I gave this guy another try. Call me a romantic, but I can’t help feeling there should be more to life—and make outs—than that.

I finally reach the counter to order. “Got to go!” I tell Kelsey. “Wish me luck!”

“You’ll be perfect.”

I hope so. But Kelsey doesn’t know that landing this job is only the half of it.

Because ‘assistant’ wouldn’t be my only task.

But that’s getting ahead of myself. I hang up and order my iced mocha, trying to focus. Wow them in the interview first, worry about the rest of it later. But as I’m striding confidently to the doors, gripping my mocha, someone jostles my elbow. My arm lurches, the cap flies free, and a wave of cold, dark coffee hits me, square in the chest.

“Noooo.” I wail in dismay, looking down at my no-longer-white blouse. I’m soaked to the skin, with cream smeared down my front and caramel sauce dripping from the mess, just to taunt me with my extra treat add-on.

I look a total mess.

And I have exactly ten minutes until the biggest interview of my life.

I quickly run through my options. I can’t go back home and change—I don’t have the time. And all I’m wearing underneath is my lucky pink lace bra, not exactly interview material. Can I find a store open to grab a replacement? Not likely, before nine a.m.

---